The Chaos Witch's Soul
by Sybariticfanfiction
Summary: Being thrown into a video game isn't exactly something you can prepare yourself for, and you know with one hundred percent certainty this is not how things are supposed to be. [Chosen Undead/ Chaos Witch Quelaag. Friends? Datemates? Who knows, really?]
1. Chapter 1

**Hey! ! My name's Syb and I have zero self control! !**

 **I'm kidding, of course. A friend of mine made a request and I immediately wanted to write this. My older readers know I've got two other fics going right now, but rest assured this does not mean either of them are going on hold! It probably won't it even affect updates, honestly. I write a lot more than I actually post.**

 **But hey.**

 **I hope you guys like how I portrayed Quelaag! And if you don't, well... Tell me anyway. I wanna hear your headacanons.**

* * *

 _It's too bright_ , you think blurrily, your eyes watering as you try to get used to the brilliant lights. You struggle to remember how you got into this situation... And why aren't you dead? That's what _usually_ happens in Lordran.

Something... Something about Mildred?

Yeah.

You're almost certain it has something to do with Mildred. _Didn't she try to kill me earlier?_ That could be it.

You don't feel like you died though, which is... Weird. You've become intimately familiar with what reviving feels like over the last few weeks. The hazy mind and creaking body and the violence that your hollowed self craved. 'They're just looking for souls and humanity' they say. _Ha!_

Being thrown into a video game hasn't exactly been a smooth adjustment, to say the least.

"You're awake." A voice says, rough as if they haven't spoken in quite some time.

You immediately scramble as far away as you can, instinctually reaching for your weapon. "Who- oh."

Quelaag tilts her head to the side curiously, a smile now gracing her lips. "There is no need for that. I do not wish to harm you." She says, motioning to your defensive position. "For now, at least." She adds on, mostly to herself.

Lowering your weapon, you can't help but laugh. "At least you're honest. What'd I do to get in your good graces?"

She seems surprised. "You... Do not recall?"

"If you give me a while I might. The Curse sorta f- messed my memory up." You censor yourself at the last second, knowing better then to causally curse. According to Griggs' it's a _horrible offense_ unless you're extremely close to someone. Then it's a... Sign of being comfortable or something? Or trust?

You don't claim to understand the ethics of this world.

"Mildred, that dreaded cannibal attacked me just after another 'challenger' had come." She sounds irritated more than anything by the challenger. "I don't understand what compelled her to do so either, as we typically have a symbiotic relationship, but perhaps seeing me wounded sparked something in her."

 _Was that a pyromancy pun?_

"Luckily," She waves towards yourself, "You aided me in repelling her, but were wounded in the process..." She lowers her eyes, her lips curling back. "Which, means I... _Owe you_. I am in your debt until I can repay the favor." She admits begrudgingly.

Well.

"Of saving my life." You clarify, leaning back your hands in an attempt to seem casual. If anything it just makes it more obvious how tall she is.

Of course, that's to be expected considering you're chatting with a giant spider lady.

Not that you _mind_. It's better than the alternative, which is murdering a giant spider lady.

"Yes. I originally planned on gifting your humanity to my sister, but it seems we are... At an impasse." She shifts a bit, more or less settling down. You think it must've been really strange trying to get used to having a spider for a lower half.

You pause, debating. "Here." You finally say, getting to your feet and holding out your cupped hands. It takes a few seconds, but then a humanity appears. "I've got a few extra. Pros of being summoned a million and three times."

You didn't want to risk dying over and over, and summoning was an easy way of getting used to the bosses before taking them on yourself. Bosses... 'In real life' are much harder to get past than their video game counterparts.

Quelaag looks downright startled for a moment, just staring at you with a (positively adorable) deer in the headlights expression. "I... I am already in your debt, Undead." She finally says, although she's looking at the humanity longingly.

"Consider it on the house." You laugh, leaning up farther.

She very carefully takes the humanity, her hands almost uncomfortably warm. You sorta like though, especially after the slushy swamp. The air is cold while the poison pools are lukewarm at best. A wretched combination, in your opinion.

"What does 'on the house' mean?" She asks curiously.

"Free. No charge. It's a phrase from back home, I guess. Sorry. I forget sometimes that my dialect is considered odd in Lordran." You laugh nervously.

"Indeed. Where do you hail from then?" The humanity melts into her palm, and you smile. It's sweet, the way Quelaag takes care of her sickly sister.

"Uh." You start, trying to think of a good excuse. "Would you believe me if I said there's no chance you've ever heard of my homeland?"

She shrugs lightly, "Yes. I am not... Up to date on Lordran's neighbors, nor their dialects. Consider yourself lucky I speak this tongue at all."

"I... Okay." You laugh, smiling amusedly. "You sure are... Right to the point."

"I am not fond of frivolities." She responds, her lips quirking.

"Frivolities. That's such a cute word, oh my god." You say. "I can probably get my hands on the old Witch's ring if speaking your older language would make you more comfortable though."

"The Old Witch's Ring?" She repeats, raising her eyebrows. "How would you come across such a treasure?"

"Uh.." You run your hand through your hair. "I have a giant crow friend that'll trade rare items for soft and warm stuff."

She blinks. "You... Are a fascinating Undead."

"Apparently I'm the Chosen Undead, whatever the he-heck that means." You hum, flashing her a bright smile. "Speaking of which..."

She nods in understanding, "You came to ring the bell."

"Yup! And to light the bonfire, so I can teleport here after I get The Lord Vessel." You respond lightly, silently wondering if you should really be admitting all this to someone you were meaning to kill. Not that you would've liked it.

You figure it's fine though, given her reaction.

She just smiles, nodding. "You may do so then. And... Do return, undead." She looks so... _Vulnerable_ for a split second, and you can practically hear your heart break. It must be lonely, with only her sister and the carriers to keep her company. "I plan on repaying you." She adds on, almost as if she's trying to make up for her slip.

You grin, promising whole-heartedly, "Of course!"


	2. Chapter 2

**This is a good protag. I had a fun time writing this (even if it took twelve years).**

 **I don't have much I want to say? Sorry for the slooooow update on this! The person who asked about this hasn't really been in contact with me and I sorta lost motivation :/**

 **but I still love Quelaag so hey. This probably won't be as long as my Lucatiel fic but it'll have fluff and this protag... Love them.**

 **Next chapter is lookin to be a bunch of fluff and fretting over the Chosen Undead bc I'm weak. I am so weak for ppl actually taking care of the Chosen Undead. The poor thing needs a hug.**

 **But anyway.**

 **Hope you have a good day! ! ! Enjoy spring! Or Fall, if you're on the other side of the world. Both are beautiful.**

* * *

If there's one thing you know for certain, its that despite knowing how this entire playthrough is supposed to play out, things never work out that way. In game, resting at a bonfire heals everything, but now more serious injuries are only healed by death.

And goodness knows you don't want to die again, even if your non-dominate arm is... More or less _useless_ at the moment. A partial parry gone horribly wrong _(thanks to a fuckin invader)._

It's safe to say you did not enjoy your stay in Anor Londo, regardless of how breathtakingly gorgeous the architecture is. There were enemies everywhere and you had a horrible time trying to get past Snorlax and Pikachu.

Not to mention how unpleasant it was talking to the Princess, when you know she's trying to make you into an Undead Candle.

 _As if._

You try to reign in your bitterness as you make your way back down to Blighttown, deciding to take the scenic route so you can kill the Undead Dragon you previously left alive. You're shieldless, unfortunately, but its pretty easy to dodge its poison spitting attack.

The rush of souls is oddly comforting, although its not calming in the slightest. You'd compare it to a double shot coffee kicking in, energizing and warm.

Although, coffee doesn't usually make you want to shove a knife through the next thing that moves.

Being Undead is strange.

Being in your human form makes it a little more manageable though, and its much less freaky to look down at yourself and see skin, regardless of how heavily scarred the last few months have left you.

It hardly even fazes you when one of the dart blowers hits you at this point, although the poison itself is rather dizzying. Scowling, you simply continue awkwardly sliding down the ladders and simply jumping when you're sure it won't break your ankles.

It's not until you reach the bottom that something else goes wrong, and you don't even notice it until you get to the bonfire only to find it unlit.

"Dammit." You say, turning to look out at the swamp. There's still a warning when you're officially invaded, even in... _Now_ , but you're not quite sure you can make it to Quelaag before they enter your world.

You let loose another string of curses as you begin speed-treading through the muck. Please, please, please, you pray to every god you've heard of.

-Knight Kirk has invaded your world! -

"What the actual fuck?" You demand, spinning in place. You catch a flash of red near the Great Hollow tree and nearly sob in relief. You can totally make it to Quelaag, and she'll help and then-

 _Wait a minute_...

Your eyes narrow as you begin scrambling for dry land again, wondering to yourself; _Aren't they allies?_ Why would Kirk attack me in the first place?

You'd think he would've learned the first time you kicked his ass into next week that you're _really_ not someone to mess with.

You're also without the use of one arm at the moment though, and you know that puts you at a disadvantage. Then again, nearly everything in Lordran could be considered a disadvantage. The elevators are horrible accidents waiting to happen, for example.

Not to mention the giant crows, Undead, lizard people, demons... Even the dogs are a pain in the ass.

You can't wait til you're a dark lord. You'll outlaw undead canines, first fucking thing.

Frampt still thinks I'm to be the successor of Lord Gywn, you think amusedly, finally making it to the hill. You can hear Kirk sloshing around somewhere to your left, but you think making it to Quelaag will be easy now that you're just running.

You are wrong.

You are _so wrong_.

He catches up just inside the threshold of Quelaag's domain, but to your abject horror, _she's not here_.

You turn to face him with a grim frown, your weapon raised defensively. "Do we seriously need to do this?" You ask, completely aware phantoms can't hear. Or, if they can, you've never heard one respond. It doesn't matter, you suppose.

He lunges for you, confirming _yes, we're doing this._

You barely manage to dodge, making sure you're also out of range of his spikey armor. You can't image being poked to death would be fun.

Although, as he lands a hit, you think being bled to death isn't much better.

"Can you _knock it off_?" You snap. He simply takes another swipe at you in reply, although this time you manage to get a hit in return. His health bar dips the tiniest amount, and it occurs to you that the bandits knife, while convenient against the club wielding giants, isn't the best weapon for fighting Mr. Blood and Spikes.

 _I am so screwed_ , you think dismally.

 _So, so very screwed_.

* * *

And then you're waking up, and your head hurts but at least the lights aren't quite as bad as they were the first time. Jesus, is this area just out to get me? You think dizzily, glancing down at whatever is keeping you upright and unable to move much of anything.

It takes you a second to understand.

...Webs.

You guess you should've expected this.

"You're awake!" Someone says, prompting you to lift you head. There's a man sitting crisscross in front of you, obviously playing babysitter as he has no armor. There's no need if Quelaag is guarding the entrance again.

 _Nice_. You huff, "Do I want to know how I got here?"

"Quelaag. I assume you'd like to be cut down now?" His smile is crooked as he gets to his feet, his hand moving to the sword at his waist.

The _very familiar_ sword at his waist.

 _Oh my god._

It has been... A long few weeks, and considering the circumstances Kirk is let off easy when you snarl only, " _You_."

He recoils nonetheless, lifting his sword from the webs binding you.

The two of you stare each other down (well, you stare, Kirk just remains perplexed) for a few moments before Kirk asks with obvious confusion, "Me?"

"You invaded me!" You accuse, grinding your teeth irritably.

"Well, yes, before I realized your connection with Quelaag." He admits without an ounce of shame, moving to try and cut you down again. You allow him to do so without complaint but you do have to wonder why Quelaag felt the need to bind you anyway.

You roll your eyes as he frees one of your legs. "Before that. In the depths."

"Oh." He says slowly, pausing. " _Oh_." His eyes light up with realization. "You killed me, didn't you?"

"Well, yes." You imitate mockingly, and his lips tilt up.

"You're a spitfire, aren't you?" He laughs. "I see why Quelaag took a shining to you."

Your snappy reply dies on your lips as he slashes the last bit of web holding you up, sending you tumbling ungracefully to the floor. Kirk apparently expected it, and steps back just in time. You glare up at him when he offers a hand and haul yourself up with a scowl. "Thanks for the warning."

"It is not my fault you weren't paying attention." He defends halfheartedly.

"It's your fault I almost died." You answer dryly, stretching out languidly. Your back pops several times, and Kirk twitches. "Again." You add after a moment, recalling the many times you've messed up.

"Quelaag mentioned you being an Undead." He says conversationally.

"The Chosen, actually." You fake pride, straightening your shoulders and tilting your face up. Kirk raises an eyebrow and you dissolve into laughter. "Sorry, Frampt thinks I have to act heir-y."

"Airy?" He repeats.

"No, like, an heir. Ish. I don't know." You admit, shrugging. "I just got thrown into this whole mess, to be honest."

He glances around the web covered cave and moves his hand to the hilt of his sword (which, unfortunately you are _excruciatingly_ aware of). "Didn't we all?"

You shift farther from his side, eyes narrowing. "I guess."

If he notices your distrust, he has the decency not to mention it. "You have a very peculiar dialect."

"Yeaaaaah..." You drag out the syllable. "So I've heard, from like... Everyone. Other than Solaire." You nod. "He's a pretty cool dude, that one."

His 'real life' self doesn't float unlike his in game model though, which you found disappointing. He is still taller than you. Speaking of which, so's Kirk. You feel your irritation rekindle at that, but manage to distract yourself by flexing your weak arm. You think it'll heal on its own, if you don't die anytime soon. You _are_ planning on taking on the Bed of Chaos though, and that guarantees a few deaths.

"What is wrong with your arm?" Kirk asks, curiously.

You shrug. "No idea. I think I messed with a nerve or something. It'll fix itself."

"Eventually." Kirk agrees. "You should have it in a sling."

It takes no small amount of work to swallow your pride enough to admit, "...I don't know how."

Kirk barks a laugh (and you really want to deck him), "Where do you hail from that they do not teach their knights basic first aid?"

"I'm not a knight!" You snap. "I'm just a very unlucky Undead."

His laughter cuts off as he abruptly turns to face you. "You're not trained? At all?" Your face must give the answer away, because he looks downright shocked. "How did you learn to fight?"

"I- I didn't? I mean... I guess I've gotten better, but I just knew? I thought that was an Undead thing." You explain, running your hand through your hair. You make a face when you catch a web between your fingers. _Gross_.

"You..." Kirk starts, reclaiming your attention. "I did not think what you said about being the Chosen One was true, but if you truly do not have any experience, I am inclined to believe."

"Chosen Undead. Not Chosen One." You correct, your voice dropping when you add, "And thanks."

Kirk grins again, and you find yourself smiling in return. "I think we got off on the wrong foot." You say, introducing yourself as you hold your hand out.

Kirk appears amused by this, but he plays along. "I am Knight Kirk, loyal Chaos Servant and ally to those who aid Quelaag." He says matter-of-factly.

"Not a notorious darkwraith?" You tease.

He rolls his eyes. "I do not know where that rumor originated."

"Maybe it's because you invaded everyone in Lordran at least twice." You hum, your words lacking any of the bite you usually have.

"I have only met your Solaire once." He quips.

"He's not _my_ Solaire." The bite is back.

His lips tilt up into a surprised grin. "Have I hit a nerve?"

You are going to punch him in the face and you will not regret it one bit.


End file.
